


Let Me Hear You Speaking Just for Me

by fluxoid



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archive Jon, Captivity, Caretaking, Dehumanization, Dissociation, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Objectification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluxoid/pseuds/fluxoid
Summary: Why does a man seek to destroy the world? Sometimes, he doesn't. Sometimes he finds the beauty in simply having a perfectly curated Archive.After the Unknowing, Jon wakes somewhere unfamiliar and learns of his true purpose.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 25
Kudos: 106
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	Let Me Hear You Speaking Just for Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the day 6 prompt "Inhumanity" for Jonelias week, because of course my first published tma fic would be Jonelias.
> 
> Huge thank you to yashitsu, dundee998, and cheerykralie for helping this turn into something actually coherent.
> 
> This is going to get heavy, so tags will be added for later chapters, with more information in the end notes of the respective chapter.

Jon dreams, watching the doctor try to relearn how his own limbs work, the woman slowly and meticulously eating her own computer, an endless cycle that seems to have no beginning, and no end in sight. His dreams shift at a certain point, though, instead of his endless trek through statement after statement, there’s someone new. A man coming to tell a tale about a voyage out to sea in the hopes of a night’s rest, and the clarity of purpose that followed. It’s only after that moment that he wakes.

Sound comes first, though there’s little to take notice of beyond a faintly ticking clock and a sudden clicking that he recognizes.

Jon shifts where he’s lying, the familiar whir of a tape recorder pulling his awareness outward, until he manages to open his eyes. He doesn’t recognise his surroundings, though it’s clearly an office or a study of some sort. Inexplicably, he’s on the floor, which is fortunately carpeted, though he can’t give many more points toward comfort.

Blinking and glancing around, he freezes when he sees Elias, seated at a desk, though with his chair turned to face him, his face bright with something like delight, and something else, something far more intense. Jon knows they’re not in the Institute, so this must be Elias’ own home.

“Elias, where— What’s going on?” Jon shifts around his weight, working his way to sit upright, pausing when he hears the rattle the movement brings with it and feels a weight dragging. Glancing down toward his wrists, his heart freezes seeing manacles fastened on each. Following the chain, he notes that they’re anchored firmly to the wall he’d been set by. “What—”

Elias says nothing in response to Jon’s evident confusion, simply grabbing a sheet of paper from his desk and standing to walk over to Jon, who would love to not still be rooted to the ground at this point, but he doesn’t think that he can manage standing at all right now. Simply sitting up is more than enough effort. Instead, his eyes are drawn to the paper in Elias’ hand, which he Knows is a statement. God, he’s hungry, if that’s the right word for it. So long as Elias is planning to give that to him, he’ll be fine. Then he can organise his thoughts and get to the bottom of what happened.

“Archive,” Elias’ voice comes out almost like a purr as he says the word, and though Jon wants to correct him that’s he’s the Archivist, not an actual archive, he knows there wouldn’t be a point as it’s no doubt just Elias being insufferable as always. Instead, he just shifts his gaze from the statement to Elias, wariness mixing with the increasingly burning Need for the statement in his hand. He opens his mouth to respond, but Elias cuts him off, holding the paper out. “Statement of Lorell St. John.”

“I- Right, yeah.” Jon frowns but reaches out, the chain allowing him to grab the statement though he can’t go much further than that. Sure enough, it’s of one Lorell St. John. Wasting no time, he plunges into the statement, recounting her experience of encountering ‘zombies’, as she called them. The words flow out as though he hasn’t just been out for who knows how long, as though his voice weren’t shot to hell, and in the back of his mind he’s aware of his energy increasing with each breath he takes, the statement working better than any tea or coffee ever had in revitalizing him from his exhaustion.

As the statement finishes, Jon takes a deep breath, sitting up straight with his mind finally clearer and energy bustling through him.

“An interesting statement, to be sure.” Elias isn’t even looking at Jon, though he holds his hand out for the paper back. Jon does so, confusion marring his face even as Elias continues, turning back to head toward his desk. “And one that poses an interesting question: how can any of us be sure we’re real? That we’re still human, or ever were in the first place. Well, I’m sure Ms. Lorell has her own answer to that one.”

Jon ignores the tape clicking off, attention focused squarely on the man in front of him. “Elias, what is this about? Where am I and _why_ am I chained up? What happened with the Unknowing? You’re supposed to be-” In prison, he wanted to say, but he has no way of knowing what happened with Martin and Melanie’s side of the plan. Then again at this point, whichever point this is, there’s no way it’s still a secret. “Where are Martin and the others?”

Jon can feel the compulsion dripping from every question that leaves his mouth, growing in intensity as he realizes just how many he has. Elias isn’t facing him, though he can see the man take a deep breath as the compulsion hits, evidently much stronger than the last time he’d tried this. Jon stares daggers at the back of Elias’ head, mentally willing him to answer even if his power doesn’t work that way. Though who can really say at this point.

After a long, tense moment, Elias sighs and his shoulders relax, reaching out for a few papers that were set to the side of his desk and pulling them in to seemingly input their contents onto an excel spreadsheet on his computer. Jon grits his teeth, getting his feet under him to stand up, thankfully unhindered by the manacles, and steps forward as far as he can before he feels the tug on his wrists.

 _“Elias! Tell me what’s going on!”_ He’s shouting now, panic rising as he pulls at the chains that stubbornly refuse to budge, but he doesn’t care. The reaction from Elias is lessened now, apparently now knowing what to expect when he throws a compulsion his way, after that first frantic attempt; which is great for him, but only serves to make Jon even angrier.

He grabs at his wrist, twisting the manacle around looking for the clasp, and is entirely unsurprised to see them sealed firmly, with nothing in his vicinity that he could try fitting into the lock. Frustrated and more than a little panicked, he tugs at it anyway, on the chance that he can somehow slip his hand through. After ten minutes of struggling, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he twists his hands in the cuffs while yelling pleas toward Elias, the only thing he’s managed to achieve is an impressive number of bruises and scrapes that don’t seem to bleed for nearly as long as they should, as well as a return to exhaustion.

“Elias, if this is some sort of test, then at least tell me. You’re not— this silent treatment isn’t— You usually love holding information over my head,” Jon leans against the wall, idly rubbing at his wrists as they itch from the healing that he is now certain is far faster than it should be. “Am I, am I supposed to Know the answer or pull it from you? This isn’t— Elias at least give me something. Please…”

Nothing, Jon would almost worry that he wasn’t able to be heard at all, which given some of the powers out there, wasn’t impossible, if it weren’t for the fact that Elias had addressed him when he woke up and even handed him a statement. No, this is some new fucked up test or even a game that Elias is playing.

Well, if this is how it’s going to be, then Jon doesn’t have much choice but to play along. Though he’s Known things before, it always seemed unpredictable when he’d actually receive something. He starts by trying to think about why he’s chained here, staring at the back of Elias’ head in the hopes of pulling some sort of knowledge from him. Compared to the last time he’d Known something, he can feel himself reaching out, but it’s as though there’s a wall between him and Elias, so intangible that he can’t even mentally throw himself at it. Whether Elias is actively pushing him away or this is the Eye’s doing, Jon can’t say, but a couple of minutes and a headache later, he gives up on that pursuit.

Sliding down the wall, he sits finally, looking around the office and to the window that gives him at least something of a view of the outside and lets his mind wander. The sky is grey, and while he can see a few buildings in the distance, there’s nothing that he recognises enough to tell him where he is. Jon stays like that for what must be a couple of hours, occasionally tossing another attempt at a question toward Elias, but otherwise taking note of every item he can, every scrap he can try to use to piece together answers.

At least he can identify his surroundings at all, which he takes to mean that their expedition to stop the Unknowing was a success. Now if only he knew how long ago that was. As the thought crosses his mind, Jon finds the answer, as though he’d known it all along and simply remembered it.

“It’s February? Elias what, that’s… that’s _six months_! I wasn’t out for that whole time, was I? Where are the others? The, the explosion… Basira and Daisy and— Oh. Tim.” The realization hits him, in time with the memory of those last, near incomprehensible moments. He wonders for a moment if he should be appreciative of the Eye deigning to at least give him something, or take it as yet another blow. Jon hunches in on himself, bringing his knees in close to his chest as he attempts to process the fact that Tim is just… gone now.

At least that meant that Basira made it out. And Daisy— No. Daisy is… somewhere else. Gone, but not dead. Jon tries to press for more information, but it seems that that’s all he’s getting for now. He sighs, then focuses his attention on Elias once more.

“Okay, six months, we successfully disrupted the Unknowing, Tim is,” He pauses, “dead, Daisy is… lost somewhere, Basira got out, and I was, I don’t know. I was dreaming. A coma? I suppose that’s the best way to put it. Is that what you wanted? I still don’t know why I’m _here_.” He lifts his wrists, letting the chains clink to highlight his point.

And… Still nothing. The irritation is back, Jon shifting to sit with both his legs and arms crossed. If Elias won’t tell him what this is about or even _acknowledge his presence_ , then Jon will just give him the same treatment and refuse to guess or play along any further. Elias has already been at this for a few hours at this point, Jon just has to outlast him.  


* * *

The dim light from the window eventually fades, Elias occasionally getting up from whatever scheduling he’s working on to stretch his legs, a couple of times even leaving for a time, only to come back with a small plate of food for himself. Once, he even places a phone call, snapping out a curse toward Peter (Lukas, he assumes) when he’s sent to voicemail. Jon had considered speaking up then to interfere with the message, if only to provide a reason for Elias to face him, but rationalised he’d be ceding this game of chicken they were playing if he did.

Once it’s fully dark, the only light coming from Elias’ desk lamp and computer screen, Elias appears to wind down, placing his remaining papers into drawers and saving his spreadsheets one final time before standing. He takes a look around the room and finally, _finally_ , lands on Jon.

“Oh, goodness,” Elias mutters, sounding disappointed in something as he rakes his eyes over Jon’s body. Jon straightens and opens his mouth to retort, but Elias is already turning and walking out of the study with purpose. Jon fumes silently, waiting until sure enough, he re-enters with what appears to be a wet flannel.

“What—” Jon can only watch bemused as Elias steps in front of him and crouches, reaching for his left arm. He jerks it back out of Elias’ reach, officially done with trying to match him in this silent treatment. And, technically, Elias did say something to him. “What the _hell_ are you doing? You can’t just ignore me for a _whole day_ and then try to pull something like this!”

He doesn’t even expect a response, simply glaring at Elias who appears to only have eyes on Jon’s arm, a determined look on his face before he lunges forward, gripping it tight and pulling it toward him. Jon cries out, his other hand coming up to claw at his grip, but Elias steps over the chain and kneels, using his thigh to pull the chain taut to the ground with him, bringing Jon’s arm with it. Combined with the grip on his left arm, Jon isn’t in a good enough position to shift his weight to get his legs between them.

“Just one day, and it’s already getting dirty,” Elias mutters examining Jon’s arm that, while at this point healed from his earlier struggles, is still covered in flakes of dried blood. “Here I’d hoped this would be a low maintenance installation.”

Jon can’t even come up with an immediate response to that, mouth hanging half open while Elias uses the opportunity to rotate his arm and start gently wiping the blood off of his skin and the manacles.

 _It’s already getting dirty._ He stares wide-eyed at Elias, not putting up a struggle when Elias finishes with his left arm and stands long enough to trap it the same way he had his right so that he could begin cleaning the other. His mind rushes to earlier, when he’d first woken up.

_Archive._

“Elias…” He can’t hide the tremor in his voice. Just like that, he understands what the other avatar is playing at. “Don’t. This is— Elias, this is sick! Let me go!” He tries to pull his arm away once more, but Elias’ grip holds firm as he cleans every last trace of blood away, lingering afterward for a moment to run his thumb across the unmarred skin, while Jon feels a cold dread growing in his stomach.

“Archive,” Jon’s breath hitches when Elias speaks, feeling the burn of tears threatening to emerge from behind his eyes. “What is my name?”

“Wh— What are you—” He stops, snapping his mouth shut. No. Elias thinks he can just order Jon around as if he isn’t even a human being. No matter how simple the question is, Jon will _not_ humour this.

Elias seems to be waiting for a response, but after a moment sighs and releases his arm, removing himself from the chain as he begins to stand. With his arms freed, Jon lashes out with a fist, cracking across Elias’ face and attempting to glare at the bastard even as he’s unable to hold back the tears that are now silently slipping down his face. Elias stumbles back, falling beyond Jon’s reach.

“Well,” Elias sits up, blood now streaming from his lip and nose and a dangerous glint in his eyes. He appears as though he wants to retaliate, but he pauses a moment, taking a breath before standing. Elias dabs at the blood with the flannel in his hand, staring down at it then folding it up. “I suppose no archive is complete at the time of its founding. No doubt I’ll have my perfect Archive yet.”

With that, Elias leaves the study, closing the door behind him and leaving Jon to curl in on himself in the dark.


End file.
